


More Than Enough

by tatertatra



Series: We Could Pretend [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dishonored 2, Drabble Collection, F/M, Post-Dishonored 2, a collection of emily and her eldritch not-boyfriend boyfriend, dressing her wounds cliche, emsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatertatra/pseuds/tatertatra
Summary: “I’ll whisper to her in her dreams because she reminds me of you.”She let his words hang in the air, thick and real as smoke. He stared at her like he could see straight through to the part of her heart that turned black with longing.





	

Delilah made Emily Kaldwin her legacy, a final work of art for the world to remember her by. She left her watercolor, bone-deep bruises and missing pieces of flesh, scars that would fade over time but never truly disappear.

Emily studied her face in the mirror. The coup carved out her cheeks, left her eyes sunken and bruised. Her was hair down for once, stress-thin and dark like her mother’s. The Empress of the Isles had gone from a thing of soft heart to something darker, a woman of hard edges. She pressed a knuckle against her nose to stanch the blood that began to drip. _Again_.

Had it been a month since her return to Dunwall already? Would her mother still be proud of what she’d done? What of her father, Corvo? Part of her doubted it. She killed to get her throne back and somehow become a heretic in the process. Then, upon her return, she hid in her room and let the letters and documents pile up on her desk.

She sighed and turned the faucet on the sink. The water ran for a few seconds, warming until she cupped it in her hands and splashed it on her tired face. If she could do nothing else, she’d rinse away the day and try again tomorrow.

“Coward,” she said to no one.

A stream of blood-stained water disappeared down the drain. The mark on the back of her hand itched, then came the voice.

“Has our dear Empress fallen so low she’s turned to mocking herself?”

Emily jumped and scrambled to turn of the water. Of all nights for him to appear, of course it’d be tonight. His visits were more frequent than she’d thought possible. But then again, was there anything he couldn’t do? She cursed him and hoped he could read minds.

The Outsider sat on the edge of her bathtub, arms crossed and head cocked to the side. Typical, feigned indifference. A scowl curved her lips as she turned towards him. The air in the washroom smelled of him now. Void. Cold metal and ash, magic, strong enough to make her jaw ache.

The damp ends of her hair dripped onto the shoulders of her blouse. He vanished in black dust and reappeared in front of her, close enough to touch. His fingers tugged on her hair, light as a moth’s touch.

She tried not to smile. “You’re awfully daring tonight. Do you know what would happen if Corvo found us like this?”

A grin almost formed on his mouth, but he ignored her question. “The fate of the entire world rested on the shoulders of a woman who makes a mess washing her face. Makes everything seem awfully delicate, doesn’t it?”

Emily’s shoulders fell with a sigh. She shrugged away from him and stepped towards the cabinet. His presence wasn’t unwelcome, but she was tired and the bandage on her ribs needed changed. Delilah was sure to sculpt a piece out of her, as well as wash her black and blue.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” he said. She watched his expression in the glass. It was nearly soft, sad. Something akin to concern.

His boots tapped against the floor as he walked to stand beside her. He seemed much more human on the ground, rather than floating in a mist. If only his eyes were different, then maybe she could pretend…

She held his gaze out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were black, depthless, carved from night skies and something intoxicating and terrible. She stared back with equal intensity. Perhaps Emily Kaldwin had been born with a piece of the Void in her soul. She certainly took to it with ease.

Her thoughts whispered like runes. _If his eyes were different, what would you want to pretend, Emily?_

She shook her head and opened the cabinet.

His face disappeared under another mask of indifference. “Delilah really did a number on you, didn’t she?”

Emily scoffed. “How astute of you.” She took the roll of bandage from its shelf and turned, shutting the door behind her with her elbow. Her teeth found the end of the roll. “And here I thought you only spoke in cryptic riddles.”

He rocked back on his heels, eyes narrowed and hands clasped behind his back. The look made her skin prickle.

He vanished again and emerged floating before the window by the bath, washed in moonlight. This time, his arms were folded over his chest. “One day, your name will be found carved in ancient stone, washed up on a distant shore like a rotten thing. A girl will find it and she’ll be born again with a new name.”

Emily grinned. The Empress from before would have ran from her death, but the new one, the one face-to-face with The Outsider himself, learned to embrace the inevitable.

“I’ll whisper to her in her dreams because she reminds me of you.”

She let his words hang in the air, thick and real as smoke. He stared at her like he could see straight through to the part of her heart that turned black with longing.

Without looking away, her fingers found the buttons on her blouse. She dared him to turn away and he dared her to do it. If there was one thing she was unafraid of, it was the Void.

The buttons slipped from their holes with ease and she shrugged out of her shirt. Emily stood in bare heresy, chest clad in brassiere and wound only.

A noise hissed from the back of his throat. He turned to stare out the window.

Triumphant, Emily unwound the old bandaged from her waist. Her pale skin was taut around her ribs, the muscles of her stomach dotted with bruises and half-healed cuts. The area under the bandage was tender to the touch. Her fingers ran over the stitches.

She bit back the amusement in her voice. “To answer your question, yes.”

While she’d been studying her wounds, the Outsider moved to sit on the tub again. He rested his elbows on his knees, tracing the lines on the floor with his eyes. “Delilah made her mark on us all. Some more prominent than others.”

Emily struggled to dress her wounds. It hurt to move her arms around. She mumbled, mostly to herself. “I still prefer the physical ones to the psychological.”

He was beside her again, quick as a reflex, refusing to look at her face but taking the bandages from her. Goosebumps ghosted across her skin.

The Outsider dressed her wounds the way snow falls: impossibly soft and slow. His hands cold like that place in her dreams.

Dark eyes met hers. “Unfortunately, I can only help heal the physical.”

She gripped his wrist. “That’s more than enough.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The spawn of another prompt I received on tumblr! Thank you, thank you. This is also hopefully going to become a series of post-D2 drabbles and snippets of their lives. Their almost-relationship. I love them.  
> Enjoy~♥
> 
> Feel free to send me more prompts and requests over on my tumblr (jynersvs)


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